


unearthing (and other stories)

by coppertears



Series: when our souls grow dark (we are set alight) [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: elemental wizards au, lapslock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 21:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11655363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coppertears/pseuds/coppertears
Summary: kyungsoo is eight summers and three moons old when the earth begins to shift beneath his feet.





	unearthing (and other stories)

kyungsoo is eight summers and three moons old when the earth begins to shift beneath his feet. at first it goes unnoticed -- in a land so steeped in magic, stranger things have happened. the air thrums with incantations left to hang in silence, a hundred ancient spells cavorting in the breeze, and even the lowliest commoner is capable of casting a charm or two to clean the gunk off of dirty boots. but the earth seems to pulse with every step kyungsoo takes, its consistency changing from sand to mud to bedrock. it is only when flowers bloom the moment his fingers brush past buds that his parents decide to take him to the city.

when he was little, his grandmother used to tell him stories before sleep could have the chance to take him away for a blessed seven hours or so. in a voice that creaked with age and rattled with tenderness, she would talk about how the world was first formed on the cusp of the awakening skies, perched somewhere between night’s cloak of oblivion and day’s searing heat. it was a joining of two halves, the marriage of light and dark. and so ordinary things became extraordinary, and the surroundings seemed to acquire a spirit of their own -- a spirit that coursed, river-like, amongst the sediments, and flowed within the veins of every person who was born after. sometimes the spirit ran thick and fast; sometimes it was slow, quicksilver thin and light-hearted, but it still resided in everyone. 

most had the ability to control the drudgery of life and deal with daily necessities in a far simpler way than manual labor. but there were those whose minds and bodies and souls were bent towards a single purpose, an element, and mastered it so well that they knew the _up_ s and _down_ s and _in_ s and _out_ s of it. they could read books upon books of spells written in runes so obscure that no existing keystone was ever found, so attuned were they to their predisposed element that they could tell from sight which charms they could use. incantations for other elements, they could not touch nor read; but this ceased to matter, because with a thorough understanding of their chosen element, they could manipulate it into something resembling the others that they lacked. 

kyungsoo’s grandmother had possessed a slightly above average ability to control water. like all the other kids who were deemed special, she’d been sent to the city where libraries of the elemental books were kept, and she’d spent time under the tutelage of senior wizards who specialized in the same element. _never good enough to actually be part of the elemental council_ , she’d laugh as she snapped the bedsheet open and let it flutter down, down, down over kyungsoo’s body, _but good enough to be considered for it_. 

their little town had expected that her children would inherit the same gift. but his grandmother had chosen to marry a simple woodcutter who knew only a handful of charms (one for sharpening his blade, another for levitating the logs towards his cart, and the last for planting a new seed to take a fallen tree’s place), and none of her sons and daughters exhibited a profound magical inclination. _i loved him_ , she’d whisper in kyungsoo’s ear. _i still do_. 

“so no more wizards in this family, grandma?” kyungsoo would always ask. 

“i wouldn’t say that, dear,” his grandmother would say, tapping his chin. “there is magic in everyone. sometimes there is a little more for others; sometimes there is a little less. maybe you will one day be one of those with a little more.”

and kyungsoo would tuck away this conversation in his heart, wrapping it up in dreams and hopes and wishes. he knew it was silly. being a wizard wasn’t something that happened just because you prayed for it every night. being a wizard had a lot to do with fate and dice rolls of luck, and kyungsoo didn’t think he’d ever get the better end of the stick. still he would go to the stream just a few meters away from the town and dip his feet in it, willing the water to bubble or froth or come alive with waves that would be an indication of his power. for his grandmother, it had been ripples growing wider and wider even if she stood, completely still, in the middle of the stream. kyungsoo wanted that, too.

he hadn’t considered the possibility that when it would happen, it would be a completely different element. 

so the first time that he felt the earth shake, kyungsoo had not minded it. he’d thought it a figment of his imagination, since no one seemed to be panicking the way they would have if the earth had truly shook. the second time, he’d dismissed it as paranoia. when it occurred again for the third time, he paused in his tracks and realized that the rocks he was walking on had become small mounds of sand. the sight puzzled him, and so did the sensation of something crawling up his right arm, tendrils of suppressed electricity braiding themselves into his shoulder.

it was a seeding day when kyungsoo decided to accompany his parents and grandparents to the field where buds clung to their stalks, not ready to open up to the rest of the world. he was only half-listening to their conversation about the boy five villages away who’d set the grass on fire as a manifestation of his gift. kyungsoo wondered if he should come by the stream later that afternoon. then he knelt, and he reached out to touch a nearby bud -- and it had glowed bright white before unfurling dew-dipped petals.

there was a gasp behind him. maybe it was his father, or his mother. but kyungsoo didn’t bother checking. trembling, he’d tapped several more stalks and they’d welcomed the contact, as if his fingers bore the sun and carbon dioxide and everything else they needed to live; as if in his hands he held a promise of safety and of welcome, and they untucked themselves from their shells months before they were supposed to, and they turned their soft petals up to face the dull gray skies.

by sunrise, his family had made the decision. kyungsoo was going to the city.

 

 

the sun has only just started climbing rungs of clouds when kyungsoo, his grandmother and his father set out for the city, worn-down knapsacks hanging on to their shoulders. their town is too far out for them to try to just walk the whole way through, so they wait for the flying train that comes by only twice a day: before the rooster crows, and before the world starts wearing darkness and silk-wool night. there is a small clump of people at the makeshift platform by the time the three of them arrive, and not long after, the flying train comes to a stop in front of them.

most of the carriages are empty, so they settle in the first one they see. kyungsoo’s father busies himself with his knife and a block of wood, carving some sort of symbol and letting the wood chips litter the floor. he smoothes out rough edges with a charm murmured under his breath. meanwhile, kyungsoo’s grandmother holds him close, a weary smile on her lips as she tells him about the things he’ll see when they’ve reached their destination. kyungsoo nods along.

he’s not quite sure how to feel. outside, the scenery becomes blobs of colors, darting past before he can grab ahold of them. it’s strange how one day, he was thigh-deep in the town’s stream, waiting for the water to answer the spirit residing within him -- and then the next day, he was moving earth and making flowers bloom. he looks at his father sitting across from him and his grandmother, looks at the way those calloused hands handle the wood with so much care. when will he lay eyes on that image again? 

“once you start training,” his grandmother says, “you won’t be allowed to come home for some time.”

he wonders how long _some time_ is. if it can be quantified in the years that make up his life, in the months that his family will spend harvesting wheat from the fields, in the days and hours and minutes that flash too fast in his palms before running away. home, with its patchwork quilts and woodsmoke scent, seems so far from his reach now. 

it is almost dusk when they arrive at the main train station, where balls of light floating about eight feet above the ground keep the black fabric of darkness at bay. a man in a blue uniform appears out of nowhere and guides them to a shuttle. kyungsoo leans his head against his father’s arm and tries to avoid thinking about how permanent _goodbye_ can be to a young boy who hasn’t even gone through the proper growth rituals that are part of his town’s traditions. 

they are dropped off in front of gates glinting golden in the nearby street lamps, and kyungsoo’s hands tighten around the straps of his knapsack. there is something about the way his grandmother is fussing with the collar of his shirt, and the way his father is patting down his hair, that makes his stomach drop down an unpleasant distance. the man in the blue uniform is still talking to the driver of the shuttle. kyungsoo feels a nudge, and he looks up to see his father’s drawn lips and charcoal-sketched eyes. 

“i don’t have anything to give you, son,” he says, “but i decided to make this. i hope you wear it always and remember us.” with that, he strings the pendant he’s been carving through a loop of silver, and he ties it around kyungsoo’s neck. 

“i’m not going to forget you,” kyungsoo whispers. his right hand comes up to grip the pendant. “i’ll do my best here.”

“i’m sure you will, dear,” his grandmother says. “and don’t forget that we love you very much.”

“i won’t,” kyungsoo says, shaking his head. “i won’t.”

and then the man in the blue uniform is hoisting him up and taking him away, and kyungsoo feels the urge to cry but he doesn’t. he doesn’t, and so instead he continues gripping the pendant, eyes still fixed on his grandmother and his father and, lost somewhere in the gaping miles, the rest of his family. he thinks he sees his father clenching his fists, and a tear escaping his grandmother’s iron will, but he’s not so sure. they become two streaky lines set firmly against the horizon, growing smaller and smaller until they are only twin points of fading light.

the last thing he sees before the gates swing shut is a single bubble encasing those twin points and floating away.

**_ten summers later._ **

three hours before the exams that will determine the new inductees to the elemental council, a flock of magical phoenixes break out of the academy’s third floor windows. they are nothing short of enormous, spreading out wings made of candle flames, and they give off an intense kind of heat that melts everything they touch. their size and their power combined are normally considered an indication of a wizard’s proficiency in summoning creatures fashioned out of his chosen element; but right now, no one is in the mood to be marveling at the sight. in seconds, all of the students have ducked for cover beneath the courtyard’s arches, whispering the words to a protective spell that will ward off the heat and prevent burning. 

kyungsoo does the same, though his spell comes in the form of a layer of earth breaking off of the school grounds and insulating him from the phoenixes. at least none of the birds are running rampant, which is also a proof of how much control their summoner has over them -- instead, they flap their wings in place, an orange-yellow glow emanating from their bodies. kyungsoo knows his peers well enough to guess at who the culprit is. in fact, he’s known it from the very moment he’d heard the windows shattering above him.

only chanyeol is capable of fashioning a phoenix out of fire, let alone an entire flock, and the tall man has always had a habit of wreaking havoc at the most inopportune moments. kyungsoo’s friends with him, and he’s had to clean up after his messes one too many times. but here within the safety of his protective spell, he knows he can’t do much; earth, and all the other aspects that come with it, can do very little to subdue these phoenixes. only water, the coldest and purest kind, can put them out.

so when junmyeon, the head of the elemental council and also the best manipulator of water in the entire realm, strides to the center of the courtyard, kyungsoo breathes out a sigh of relief. just a few steps behind the water wizard is minseok, deputy head of the elemental council and a famed manipulator of ice. the two of them are short, but kyungsoo’s long since learned that power and ability aren’t quantified by one’s physicality -- they are easily the best that the realm has to offer when it comes to magic.

he fingers the pendant hanging round his neck, watching as junmyeon takes a deep breath and raises his palms. minseok, it seems, is weaving a chant for protection around them: it comes out as a shimmering layer of permafrost, cold and hard enough to not melt despite the intense heat. then he places a hand on junmyeon’s shoulder, murmuring a spell in a speed matching junmyeon’s own. 

with a cry from the two wizards, geysers of water erupt from the ground and curl around the phoenixes’ bodies. kyungsoo winces a little, feeling the earth’s groan at having to make way, pieces of it caught up in the stream. he does his best to ignore it. when the phoenixes are gone and junmyeon lets the water course back down, he can repair the cracks made and the rest of the courtyard besides. for now, he bites his lip as a vortex of fire and water forms before his very eyes, the phoenixes struggling within their watery chains. 

soon they are swallowed up, squawks turning into a long hiss of steam that continues even when junmyeon lowers his palms and lets the water fall. kyungsoo sees minseok wrap a hand around junmyeon’s arm as he lets the permafrost melt away. 

they exchange a few words, and then junmyeon untangles his arm from minseok’s hold, saying, “who are students of the earth here?”

kyungsoo swallows and looks at the manifestation of his protective spell. he wonders why junmyeon is asking when it should be obvious enough. still, his fingers dig into his palms and he doesn’t raise his hand or make a sound. 

“none at all?” minseok says, his tone implying disappointment. “i see those who can manipulate the ground are as rare as those with the courage to speak up. we are not here to punish you. we are only asking for your help in repairing the courtyard.”

kyungsoo bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood. he knows he’s unnoticeable, blending into the background as he is wont to do, and he’s still curled up by the arches and safe in the shade. 

“most of us here are manipulators of air, sir,” a young man with sandy brown hair says. true enough, he is wrapped up in a whirlwind. “there are very few manipulators of earth coming in nowadays. we can help with whatever we can.”

“but i heard that there are at least three in this academy who are attuned to that element,” junmyeon says, frowning. “and one who is particularly gifted.”

the brown-haired guy shrugs in apology. “it seems that whoever it is isn’t here at the moment, sir.”

minseok sighs. “very well, then. please do your best to keep things in order. now -- does anyone know who the culprit is?”

at this point, kyungsoo draws back into the shadows of the hallways. healing the earth will have to wait. he takes long, brisk steps up the flights of stairs leading to the third floor, trying to push back junmyeon’s words: _one who is particularly gifted_. he knows that there are only a handful of earth manipulators here in this academy, and with the exams just hours away, he’d have to face that gifted one for a seat in the council.

the elemental council encompasses the skilled practitioners of magic in the realm, all of whom are chosen based on a series of exams as well as nominations from the academy’s professors. but it has an inner court in charge of everyone, with five chairs for the five elements: earth, air, water, fire, and ice. only the best wizard for each element is allowed to claim a chair, and he or she is part of the inner court until one of two things happen: either twenty years have come and gone, rendering the wizard too old to deal with the responsibilities that come with being part of the inner court; or the chair itself deems that someone more powerful has come along. the former makes sense enough. the latter is a more complex condition, hinged as it is on the element’s spirit imbued into the chair, which recognizes at once that someone more capable of wielding it has stepped into the realm. when this happens, the chair rejects the already-seated wizard by sealing itself with a variety of spells that may only be broken by the one it deems more worthy. 

the past few months have seen the chairs being emptied. the air wizard, jinki, had stepped down once his twenty years of service had passed and he’d gone off to the mountains within a small tornado he’d created himself. minho, the fire wizard, had gone into the chamber one day to find his chair aflame, covered up in layers and layers of spells that he found difficult to break. since then, he’d been on the lookout for his successor; it was high time anyway, as he only had a couple of years left before the end of his twenty-year tenure. junmyeon and minseok had been inducted to the inner court just three years prior, the water and ice chairs both opening up since the wizards who’d occupied them had either been rejected (in the case of the former water wizard, leeteuk) or passed twenty years (in the case of the former ice wizard, jaejoong). 

the earth chair had been empty for almost ten years now. it was around the same time kyungsoo had moved to the city that the chair rejected its former occupant, ryeowook, and not only bound itself up in spells but also sunk deep into the ground where nothing and no one could pull it out. ryeowook had then carried out a series of exams, searching for the successor that the chair would acknowledge. but there were very few manipulators of earth nowadays, like that brown-haired boy had said, and though they passed, the chair refused to recognize them.

kyungsoo thinks of that now as he wanders from room to room, eyes peeled for a familiar shock of blonde curls that he’s come to associate with chaos. all he hopes for today is to pass the exams and be part of the council, a chance that had slipped past his grandmother’s fingers by a few millimeters. but he can’t help but wonder if today will also be the day when the realm will finally have a new earth wizard.

he finds chanyeol’s gangly form crammed into a cupboard in one of the rarely-used corridors, the taller guy’s face buried in his hands. his deep red robes are pristine, but there is soot in his nails and ashes in his hair. 

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to do it, i was just trying to see if i could --”

“what were you thinking?” kyungsoo asks, hauling chanyeol out of the cupboard and cutting off his speech. 

chanyeol shifts from foot to foot. “i really didn’t mean to hurt anyone or destroy the place,” he says, his lower lip wobbling. “it’s just that i found this scroll with a picture of a phoenix, and it was made up of runes, and i read them aloud. the next thing i knew, there were actual phoenixes bursting out of the windows. it took all i had to restrain them.”

“you could have just read quietly,” kyungsoo snaps. “the exams are coming up in a few hours. what if they find out you were responsible and forfeit you from taking them? no matter how strong sir minho’s recommendation for you is, they can overrun it still.”

to his credit, chanyeol looks apologetic. the tips of his ears are flushed pink. “i really am sorry,” he whispers.

kyungsoo huffs. “i’m not the one you should be apologizing to. at least the phoenixes didn’t burn the entire place down -- sir junmyeon and sir minseok put them out in minutes.”

“i know,” chanyeol says. “i saw. is it okay, though? i mean, sir junmyeon’s water came from below the ground, and i know how you are about the earth getting hurt and all that. you should have volunteered --”

“i’m not good enough for that,” kyungsoo says, brushing off the ashes from chanyeol’s hair. 

chanyeol raises an eyebrow. “but you _are_ ,” he says. “i’ve seen you, remember? you can repair the cracks and the holes in the ground. why don’t you ever show it to the teachers?”

“it’s just not something i’m comfortable showing,” kyungsoo says. “i’m one of the worst earth manipulators in the class -- but you know there’s a shortage lately, and sir ryeowook probably took pity on me so he recommended that i should take the exams.”

“you know that’s not true.” chanyeol clucks. “sir ryeowook doesn’t play favorites. he’s been here long enough to know who’s truly talented and who’s not.”

kyungsoo just shakes his head. even though he can read the runes well enough and accomplish the spells, it still feels like he’s filled up three-quarters of the way through with inadequacy. he’s gotten here for the simple reason that he’s always melting away candle wicks and burning out light globes by studying late at night. he understands the architecture of each charm, the blueprint of magic that winds through the runes and links them with the ground beneath his feet. but his connection with the earth’s always been intuitive in nature, built out of instinct and the way it coils around his palms. like chanyeol has pointed out, he’s capable of smoothing out the imperfections on the ground, of healing any fissures; of making flowers and other plants bloom or grow larger in size; of forming different things out of the earth and manipulating it into different forms without referring to textbooks of spells. and therein lies the problem: how can he be a good, an _excellent_ earth wizard if his magic doesn’t rely on textbooks? if he does things without knowing how he does them, if his abilities seem abnormal? he’s never shown what he can do to anyone except chanyeol. he’s far too afraid of facing their contempt, brickloads of it, weighing him down until he’s sunk deeper than the earth chair and settled into the marrow of the world.

chanyeol, though, is brilliant. he doesn’t have to spend countless nights wearing down the stars because spells come easily to him. he doesn’t have to fashion some kind of understanding or memorize the chants. sometimes, all he needs to do is read aloud the runes, and the immensity of his power alone can make it work -- and more often than not, the results are beyond anyone’s expectations. unlike kyungsoo, he blends instinct with knowledge so well. without the runes, he is capable of recalling the nature of the spells and casting them regardless; and when he does have the runes, they don’t slip through his fingers and race through air currents the way they do when kyungsoo tries to grasp ahold of them. chanyeol can get away with his intuition for fire and its magical intricacies because he’s always had an easier time accessing the storehouse of spells. kyungsoo can’t -- and what is intuition, what is instinct, when there are times you need structure and reason in order to be able to restrain the magic that is part of the spells you cast?

chanyeol frowns at him, but kyungsoo just chooses to turn on his heel and head back down the corridors. the clock face peering down at them from the ceiling indicates that they have a little over an hour before the exams begin. 

kyungsoo adjusts his robes, fingers trailing over the embroidery of vines and flowers along the collar and the sleeves. while chanyeol’s robes blaze red, his are a more subdued hue of yellow sandstone. put together, they give off a semblance of belonging to the same spectrum, and yet no two elements or people can be any more different. earth is steady, reserved; fire is reckless, passionate. kyungsoo’s being is steeped in silence and thoughts before actions. chanyeol is thrice-dipped in noise, disorder, and actions before thoughts.

there are moments when he has to take a step back and wonder why they are friends. but when chanyeol is running up to him the way he is now, feet tripping over the hem of his robes, elfin ears sticking out of his curls and grin whipping out wide and free, kyungsoo thinks it doesn’t matter. they both hail from the extreme south after all, not born and bred within the complex city streets like the rest of the students here are. it’s only natural, he supposes, that they both gravitate towards each other. and after the initial listing of their similarities, it’s also only natural to discover how they are an awkward fit, and yet for some reason they manage to work well together. 

at the first floor landing, he reaches up to dust off the ashes caught in chanyeol’s curls. then, matching the rhythm of each other’s footsteps, the two of them walk towards the exam hall. 

they take a deep breath in front of the doors. this is their future.

 

 

the results of the exams don’t come out until around three days after they are held, and kyungsoo spends all of those three days in anxiety. the fact that there are only two other manipulators aside from him is enough to give him a heartburn. there is a very real possibility that he might be the only one snubbed by the council -- the selections for the practitioners of the earth element, after all, don’t rely on rankings. rather they are based on aptitude and performance, and applicants must reach a certain level for each of the spells that they cast. kyungsoo’s confident enough that none of his spells are below a level three, but since earth manipulation is a highly specialized discipline, the standards are higher. for intermediate charms, he must reach at least a level five for execution and a level six for outcome; for transmutation of earth into various forms, he needs a level eight for both aspects. he’s managed to do everything and achieve the desired outcomes, but kyungsoo’s just not sure that what he’s done merits the necessary levels.

chanyeol, he knows, has it a little easier. since there is an excess of fire manipulators (and air manipulators), his acceptance is dependent only on what rank he’s achieved. the minimum is for all spells cast to be at least a series of level threes. they may achieve levels above that, but that’s based on how they perform the charms and transmutations -- at least the standards don’t require them to hit a minimum of level eight on a spell. if they do a level five, well and good. if they do a level nine, even better. at the end of the day, all these levels are added up, and the applicants are ranked based on the total scores obtained from their levels. the top thirty students are then named as the inductees.

the way chanyeol is able to control his element, kyungsoo’s certain that his friend’s going to be part of the top ten at worst. it isn’t even a shot at the moon that chanyeol may be considered for the fire chair -- he’s once overheard sir minho talking to sir junmyeon about the gangly fire manipulator. _his abilities exceed anyone else’s,_ he remembers sir minho saying.

kyungsoo buries his face in his hands. what about him, then? what does he have? is he even worthy of being here, of studying in this city -- is he even supposed to be here, or should he have gone home a long time ago? the constellations have dressed themselves up in various swatches of clouds for thousands of nights, and kyungsoo has yet to visit the town he’d grown up in. he receives letters from his family every year, of course. there are little sculptures from his father, scrolls containing his grandmother’s advice in flowing cursive, wood chips from his grandfather, and concerned messages from his mother. his siblings send him bracelets of daisy stalks strung together, preserved heads of dandelions, a potted plant. they are all brown and wilting by the time they reach him, but this is when kyungsoo is thankful for his magic -- for the way that the spirit of the earth sings in his veins as it courses back down to the dying flowers and brings them back to full bloom. 

he wonders if that spirit will deem him suitable for the council. or if it will decide that he’s not needed, that he should board the flying train and map out the rest of his years on fields of wheat and barley.

**Author's Note:**

> This prequel will have snippets of the elemental wizards' lives before the period in which _when our souls grow dark (we are set alight)_ is set.


End file.
